by Marie Force
But this...
“This feels different than Christopher,” Nick said.
“Because it is. This one belongs squarely to Nelson himself whereas that was on his son, and while the argument could be made that the father was guilty by association, the fact was that he wasn’t the one who killed people. This time, it’s on him, and it’s going to look really bad when the American public finds out their beloved first lady was battling ovarian cancer while her husband was having an affair with a much-younger staffer on the campaign trail—and in the White House after the election.”
Nick winced at Terry’s blunt words. “How did this happen without anyone catching wind of it?”
“I’m sure the Secret Service knew, but it’s not their job to stop or report it.”
“Did his staff know?”
“I don’t think they did. Hanigan is on fire,” Terry said of the president’s chief of staff, “and Derek didn’t have much of anything to say in our meeting.”
“Derek said he’s thinking about resigning, and who could blame him? No one signs on to clean up the kind of messes they’ve been dealing with lately.”
The extension on Nick’s desk buzzed. He picked up the receiver.
“Pardon the interruption, Mr. Vice President, but Senator O’Connor and Mr. Halliwell are here to see you.”
“Send them in.” He glanced at Terry. “Here we go.”
Senator Graham O’Connor, father to Terry, and mentor and father figure to Nick, came busting through the door, smiling from ear to ear. Though he’d been retired from the Senate for most of a decade, he still relished being in the mix, especially when it came to his burning desire to see Nick occupying the Oval Office.
Nick hated to disappoint one of the most influential men in his life, but he didn’t share that burning desire, and sooner or later, he was going to have to come right out and say so. Judging by the glee on Graham’s sun-browned face, it was probably going to have to be sooner.
“Well, boys.” Graham made an attempt to tame his mop of untamed white hair but only succeeded in making it messier. “What we have here is known as a three-alarm fire.”
“And you don’t know the half of it,” Terry muttered, earning a glare from Nick. “They’re going to hear about it within the hour anyway.”
Nick waved a hand to tell Terry to fill them in.
“Nelson’s affair happened when Gloria was undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer.”
As if the legs had been knocked out from under him, Graham sat in one of Nick’s visitor chairs, his mouth hanging open in shock.
“Jesus,” Halliwell said. “As if it wasn’t bad enough.” He took a seat, his shoulders sagging. “What’re the odds that’s not going to get out?”
“Nonexistent,” Terry said. “The Post has it.”
“Fuck!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Nick said in response to Halliwell.
“What the hell was he thinking?” Graham asked.
“If I’m guessing,” Nick said, “there wasn’t a lot of thinking involved.”
“He’s president of the United States,” Halliwell said. “And it started in the midst of a hotly contested reelection campaign. How could he take a chance like that, especially when his wife was battling cancer?”
“Maybe it was because his wife was sick.” Graham held up a hand to stop the others from pouncing. “I can’t imagine anything would be more stressful than my Laine being sick with cancer and me being separated from her for weeks at a time during a presidential campaign. I’m not excusing him in any way, but it could’ve been the stress.”
“All the stress in the world wouldn’t have me jumping into bed with another woman, especially if my wife was sick.” Nick didn’t want to even think about Sam being anything but perfectly healthy.
“You and I agree on that,” Graham said, “but not all marriages are built like ours.”
Halliwell stood and began to pace. He was known for his passion for the job, but days like this would test even the most dedicated of party loyalists. “How does he survive this after what just went down with his son?”
“He’d be better off resigning to care for his ailing wife,” Graham said with barely restrained glee.
“Easy, cowboy,” Nick said, equal parts amused and horrified. “No one in this room is going to suggest that Nelson resign. Do you hear me?”
“The suggestion won’t come from us,” Halliwell said grimly. “But it will be coming. I heard Stenhouse on the radio on the way in suggesting that the only ethical thing for Nelson to do would be to resign the presidency so he can tend to his chaotic personal life.”
“Goddamned Stenhouse.” Graham’s disdain for the minority leader—and vice versa—was well known in Washington. “Already running his mouth. Why am I not surprised?”
“We’d be doing the same thing if a Republican president got caught with his pants down,” Halliwell said.
Nick liked that about Halliwell—he understood how the game was played, played it fairly and kept his head about him even when engulfed in a political calamity. “Why’re you meeting with me rather than Nelson’s team?”
Halliwell gave him a withering look. “You really have to ask?”
“He’s not going to resign.” He couldn’t resign.
“He may have no choice, and if he does, we need to be ready.”
Nick held up his hand. “Like I said when the mess with Christopher exploded, I’m not talking about that until I have to.”
Halliwell stared him down, his expression grave. “With all due respect, Mr. Vice President, you have to talk about it. This could go down very quickly after word gets out that Gloria was undergoing cancer treatment while he was banging a staffer.”
“I think you should meet with his team to see what can be done to preserve his presidency rather than planning mine.” Nick hoped to leave no room for negotiation. “Your time is better spent over there.”
Halliwell didn’t like that, but to his credit, he chose not to argue the point. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Vice President.”
“I’ll look forward to that, Mr. Halliwell.”
“Sure you will,” Halliwell said on the way out.
Terry followed Halliwell to the door, probably because he knew his father wanted a minute alone with Nick.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Graham asked after the door closed behind Terry. “He’s handing you the presidency on a silver platter, and you’re declining?”
“I don’t want it this way. Who would?”
“Um, everyone?”
Elbows on his desk, Nick leaned forward, addressing his mentor directly. “I know you want this for me, Graham, and I love you for that and so many other things. But I don’t want it. Not now and not like this. Maybe not ever, but definitely not like this.”
“You may not have a choice if this blows up into a bigger scandal than the last one. People are scandal weary with this administration. This could go very bad for him quickly, and you need to be ready.”
Nick sat back in his chair, amused as always by Graham’s unrelenting agenda for his career. “What would you suggest I do to ‘get ready’ as you put it?”
“You need a vice president on standby and a statement ready to go, if he resigns, to reassure the American people that the Republic is strong and that Democracy is working the way the framers intended.”
“If he decides to resign, I feel fairly confident he’d at least notify me before it happens.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I know my approach to these things drives you crazy—”
“That’s one word for what it does to me,” Graham said dryly. “It also sends my blood pressure into the danger zone.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I’m not doing anything until I have to. If he resigns, I’ll react then. If I do an
ything now, it’ll be misinterpreted as me trying to push him out, when that is the last thing I want to do.”
“Do you honestly believe this guy deserves to be president after all this?”
“I’m not going to be his judge and jury. That’s up to the voters and Congress to decide, and with the Democrats owning the Senate, there’s no chance of him being impeached.”
“The House Republicans can vote to impeach.”
“Why? Because he cheated on his wife? Is he the first president to do that? Nope, and he won’t be the last. Do I condone what he did? Not at all. It’s disgusting, especially since his wife was ill when it happened. If my wife were ill like that, you can bet I wouldn’t be out campaigning for reelection. I’d be wherever she was.”
“This country needs you in the Oval Office, Nick.”
Nick’s bark of laughter obviously annoyed Graham.
“It’s not funny.”
“No, it isn’t, but if I don’t laugh, I might cry, and that wouldn’t be good for the American people.”
“I don’t understand you. Anyone else in this town would be dancing a jig today, but you’re Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected, as always.”
“Believe me, I’m not unaffected by this—at all. Quite to the contrary. I just need to take it one step at a time and not get ahead of myself.”
“I want you to be president so freaking badly.”
“No, really? I had no idea!”
Graham grunted out a laugh. “You’d be legendary.”
“Your faith in me never fails to amaze and humble me. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” Graham eyed Nick with the shrewd blue eyes that’d seen something in him as a college freshman. Only thanks to him had Nick made a career of politics. On days like this, he wasn’t sure if he should thank or curse the man who’d made him. “You know what I respect most about you?”
“What’s that?”
“You march to the beat of your own drummer and don’t let blowhards like me or Halliwell or anyone else dictate your path.”
“Thank you,” Nick said, touched by Graham’s observation. “That means everything coming from you, and PS, you’re not a blowhard. You want big things for me, and I would’ve been disappointed if you hadn’t come in hot today after this news broke.”
“I did come in rather hot, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Nick said, smiling, “but I wouldn’t expect anything less. And I’ll promise you this—if and when the time comes for me to be president, you’ll be the second one to know and the first one I’ll want by my side telling me what to do.”
Graham returned his smile. “Thank you for that, but you, my friend, won’t need anyone telling you what to do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
CONKLIN’S WIFE AGREED to see them at four o’clock. Sam drove Malone to Conklin’s home in Alexandria. As they crossed the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge, they listened to the news on the radio, which is how they heard that the Post had dropped the other half of the story in the latest scandal enveloping the Nelson administration—Gloria Nelson had been undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer when her husband had the affair with the campaign staffer.
Malone looked over at her. “Did you know that?”
Sam kept her eyes on the road even as her heart leaped into her throat. “Yep.”
“Jesus, Sam.”
“Yep.”
“That’s all you got?”
“Yep.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Is Nick freaking out?”
“I don’t think so, at least not that he’s said to me. We’re in a deep state of denial that this is happening again.”
“People are going to be infuriated by this. Everyone loves her.”
“I know. She’s a lovely lady who deserved better from her husband of forty-something years.”
“Indeed she did. What possesses a guy in his position to take such a gamble?”
“I’d imagine the power goes to their head, and they think they won’t get caught.”
“The power goes to their head all right, just not the one on their neck.”
Sam sputtered with laughter. “Captain!”
“Oh, sorry. Should I not have put it that way?”
“Nah, you’re fine. It was just funny coming from you.”
“I’m not always the prim and proper professional you encounter at work, you know.”
“I had no idea!” Of course she knew the off-duty side of him, as he’d been one of her father’s closest friends.
“Sure, you didn’t. I just can’t get over this thing with Nelson. He’s the most scrutinized human being on the planet, and he can’t keep it in his pants while his wife is being treated for cancer?”
“Apparently not.” Sam’s stomach had turned when he referred to “the most scrutinized human being on the planet.” Dear God, that could be her husband before long if this went bad for Nelson. And it was already pretty damned bad.
“Did he think he’d get away with it?”
“He might’ve if the affair hadn’t become public.”
Malone sighed. “What a sordid mess.”
“I’d like to know how it became public.”
“You and me both.”
Following Malone’s directions, Sam pulled into Conklin’s condo and parked her black BMW in one of the designated visitor spots. “So tell me what to expect with Mrs. Conklin. I take it she wasn’t thrilled to hear we wanted to see her?”
“Correct. I had to talk her into seeing us. She said she’s already told us everything she knows.”
Sam looked over at him and found him staring at Conklin’s front door as a muscle in his cheek pulsed with tension. “You believe her?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
Sam reached for the door handle. “Let’s go see what she has to say.”
“Sam.”
She paused and looked back at him.
“She particularly didn’t want to see you.”
“Gee, could it be because her husband held back info and evidence that could’ve helped me solve my father’s case years ago?”
“Something like that.”
“How’s that my fault?”
“It’s not.”
“If she’s uncomfortable about seeing me, that’s too damned bad. She’s lucky she’s not locked up with her scumbag husband.” Conklin had given up his coconspirators in exchange for his wife not being charged as an accessory. Sam’s phone rang, and when she saw Darren Tabor’s name on the screen, she ignored the call. “Let’s get this over with.”
They got out of the car and walked to Conklin’s unit, which was one of four three-story townhouses in one of several similar buildings. His was white with black shutters and a black front door. Sam had never been there before and hadn’t known what to expect. The place was nice, if you liked living in a complex where every house looked more or less the same.
While Sam hung back, Malone went ahead of her up the stairs and rang the bell.
A woman with blond shoulder-length hair came to the door. She was younger than Sam would’ve expected and only the dark circles under her eyes gave away the ordeal she’d been through in recent weeks. As far as Sam was concerned, she deserved those dark circles and every other negative thing that came her way. She’d had Skip’s missing messenger bag in her possession and never thought to ask her husband what was in the bag or who it belonged to.
Why hadn’t she asked?
That was one of many questions Sam had for her.
“Come in.” The woman held the door for Malone and then led him and Sam inside a beautifully decorated space.
Sam wanted to hate everything about this house, but she couldn’t help but admire it. Had they hired a professional decorator with the money Conklin had made gambling while he was
protecting her father’s killers? Another question to add to the growing list.
“Kaitlyn Conklin, this is Sam Holland,” Malone said.
“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you,” Sam said, “but under the circumstances that’d be inappropriate.”
Kaitlyn glanced at Malone, probably hoping he would do something about Sam.
To his credit, he only said, “Can we sit?”
She nodded and took the seat located the farthest from where Sam sat. Coward. Sam wished she’d brought her rusty steak knife to work today. She hadn’t known she might need it when she left the house that morning. The foolish thoughts kept her from howling with outrage at the display of police department awards and citations that lined the wall behind Kaitlyn. As far as Sam was concerned, Conklin should have to give back every award, citation and promotion he’d ever received. She also planned to make it her mission to ensure he never got a dime of his pension after the way his career had ended. Pensions were for cops who’d served with honor and distinction. They weren’t for criminals.
Kaitlyn cleared her throat. “Um, what can I do for you?”
Sam decided to go for the jugular. “How long did you know your husband was hiding information relevant to my father’s case?”
“I didn’t know! I knew nothing about it until he was arrested.”
“Yet you had my father’s messenger bag in your possession and never bothered to ask who it belonged to or why your husband wanted it hidden?”
“I didn’t know what it was. It was in a box with some other stuff he asked me to keep at my office.”
“You didn’t question why he suddenly wanted to keep things at your office?” Malone asked.
“I know now that I should have, but at the time, I just did what he asked me to do. I was busy. Work had been crazy... I didn’t look at what he gave me or ask him why he wanted me to take it.”
“Were you always so agreeable when your husband asked you to hide evidence in a murder investigation?”
